


Bite Me: A Very Gay Vampire Love Story That Is Not A Fan Fiction

by PrinceNux



Category: Gay vampires, Original Work
Genre: And was originally going to be a fanfiction but my teacher said no, But here it is, But my time was limited, Forgive meh, M/M, it could be better, this is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceNux/pseuds/PrinceNux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There really is not much to summarize about this short story. It's just too....short.<br/>Anyway, the reason why it seems so rushed is because, 1: it was my final in my Creative Writing class last year, and 2: it WAS rushed. Skimming through it and making the story single space and taking out all the indents because writing with them screws me up, I realized how much I unintentionally left out of this story. So much more could be added. Though, double spaced, it was 21 pages. Eh. I may end up rewriting this eventually. Until then, here. Have my trash writing.<br/>Also, the title is a joke. Between me and myself. And, I was originally going to write a Fury Road fan fic because I am total Mad Max trash, but the teacher shut that down pretty quickly. So I gave the short story a snarky title because that's the kind of person I am. Anyway, enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I can’t remember the guy’s name. Come to think of it, I’m not entirely positive he even told me his name. And now he’s on the ground. Literally. Just my luck. I decide to take a walk to watch the sunrise, and this greasy haired idiot plops down besides me on the bench. I had watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as he ripped out the throat of this bird with his teeth, wiped the blood from his mouth, and then fell off the bench and onto the asphalt. Or, whatever it is that sidewalks are made out of. 

 

I had glared down at him, before realizing that his head was bleeding, and where the sun's rays touched his clothes, they had started to smoke.  _ Nice.  _

 

Sighing, I hefted the guy up off the ground and draped him over my shoulders. Like a dead deer. I briefly entertained the idea of tying his hands and feet together, but quickly dismissed it as taking too much effort. 

 

As I walked, the sun started to rise behind us, and the smell of burning clothing assaulted my nostrils.

Oh no. There’s a word for people like this. Who only come out at night, drink blood, and burn in the sunlight. Besides bar hoppers, and, then again, all they usually do is sparkle. Glitter is a gay man’s best friend and all that.

 

But this guy, he’s not sparkling. He’s burning. His clothes do not smell of liquor. All I smelled was blood. Lots and lots of blood. That’s when the word pops into my head:  _ vampire! _

 

Great. I’ve become a clique now. A walking-literally-clique.

Okay. So, the burning isn’t a myth.

The guy over my shoulders is really smoking now. Not just his clothes, either. There’s the distinct smell of burned flesh mingling with the acrid scent of burning fabric.

Crap.

 

Holding the unconscious guy closer, I sprang forward into a run.


	2. Chapter 2

We make it to my basement apartment just as the light crashes into the door. I shove the door closed with my shoulder, then stumble down the stairs and dump  _ sleeping beauty  _ onto my bed. 

He lands like I was holding him, partially curled in on himself.

 

Slumping down onto the bed beside him, I realize I now have no idea what to do with this guy, who may or may not be a vampire. 

It is at moments like these that I wish I were better in handling crises. 

I mean, it’s not like I faint at the sight of blood, and I know how to set a broken bone. But, that’s always been with instruction from others. Never by myself. I only know how to perform when there is a crowd, and my grades or someone’s life is at stake. 

Now, that makes me sound like an ass. But, it’s true. 

Interning at a hospital does strange things to you. 

 

Glancing over at my house guest, I realize that he has begun to stir.

Thank god. I’m not a murderer. Which, doesn’t really make sense in the long run, because I haven’t done anything to this guy except for bring him to my house.

Is that kidnapping? Does it count as kidnapping if the person is already unconscious?

If he does die, will I be seen as an accomplice?

 

_ I just wanted to watch the sunrise. _


	3. Chapter 3

My friend moans, and rolls over on to his back. I lean over him, feel his hot breath against my cheek. His breath smells old. Not in a unbrushed way, just in an  _ old _ way. Like parchment paper and distilled liquor. It’s not entirely unpleasant. 

 

And that’s not a weird thing to think at all!

Like I said:  _ hospitals _ .

 

Just as I’m about to brush mystery guy’s hair out of his face, he jerks upright, and our foreheads collide.

Sitting back, I clutch my throbbing head.

Looking through the gaps in between my fingers, I feel a blush explode into my face as our eyes meet.

 

He waves, coughs out a: “hi.”

Dropping my hands into my lap, I return a wave.

We sit there, staring at each other, until I muster up the nerve to clear my throat and introduce myself.

 

“I’m Oliver. Or Olly.”

Cocking his head to the side, he sweeps his hair out of his eyes, responding, “hi, Oliver or Olly. I’m Nate.”


	4. Chapter 4

After introducing ourselves, we sit on the bed in silence for a bit, before Nate’s stomach gurgles.

“Hungry?” I ask, distantly wondering if I even have any food.

He shakes his head quickly, face turning even paler than it already is.

His stomach gurgles again, and, eyes squinted in pain, he clasps both hands over his mouth.

 

Oh. Oh no. Not now. Oh geez. Okay. 

Breathe, Olly, I tell myself.

You can handle this.

You  _ are _ going to handle this.

 

“Bathroom?” I ask, and involuntarily cringe when Nate nods in response.

I get up off the bed, and drag him up with me, supporting most of his weight as we hobble to the bathroom.

 

Once in the bathroom, Nate immediately drops to the floor, knees smacking against the cracked tile hard enough to draw blood.

I grimace, and wordlessly pull his hair back and out of the way as he vomits into the toilet.


	5. Chapter 5

After a few heaves, the sweet smell of blood, new and old, fills the bathroom.

Nate stiffens, curling in on himself, pulling away from me.

I loosen my grip on his hair, and jump back against the tub when he suddenly turns to me, snarling with all needlepoint teeth, mouth smeared with blood. 

 

“ _ Get out!”  _ he gasps out, blood spattering my shirt.

That’s going to stain. Yes, I’m petty. But, to my credit, I only have three shirts, and this is my favorite one. Well, not necessarily my favorite, but, it definitely is the nicest. 

Okay, sorry. Back to  _ puking beauty. _

 

“But your hair,” I protest, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

Nate doesn’t even bother to look at me this time when he says, “damn my hair! Please,  _ just get out.” _

Not wanting to make him angry, I pull his long hair back into a sloppy ponytail, and scurry out of the bathroom. 

 

Once outside, I pull the door closed behind me, and slide down the wall onto the floor.

“I just wanted to watch the damn sunrise!” I say to my furniture.

They do not respond.

 

After ten silent minutes in which I manage to give myself a bloody lip, and bruise my knuckles on the wall in frustration, I call out, “you alive in there, Nate?”

 

I am met with a hacking cough, and finally he calls back: “you think you’re real funny don’t you, human?”

He doesn’t say human as if it is a bad thing. He just sounds tired. All used up; sucked dry.

 

I am just about to retort with a very witty answer when he concludes: “it feels like my guts are trying to move out of my body. But, beside that, I’m peachy!”

 

Ah, I see. Just my luck. A sarcastic vampire. Puking blood in my bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

After a little while, Nate stops puking. With a sudden silence filling the apartment, I timidly call out, “hey, you okay in there?”  
What I really mean is, are you alive? Can vampires die from hemorrhaging blood out of their mouths? Can they even really die?  
Surely a stake to the heart, massive amounts of garlic, holy water squirt guns, and sunlight can do them in. But puking up blood that is not theirs?

When Nate doesn’t answer after a minute or two, I knock on the door, saying, “I’m coming in.”  
He doesn’t answer. Not that I expected one. But, still, an indication of life would have been nice.

Okay. Just breathe, I tell myself.  
Taking a defensive stance in case of angry vampire, I push the door open and step into the bathroom. 


	7. Chapter 7

I am not sure what I was expecting-maybe a blood bath? But, the silence is even worse. 

Closing the door behind me and taking a step into the bathroom, I trip over Nate and end up on the floor, too.  _ Nice. _

 

Rolling over onto my back, I rub my throbbing elbows, and lean up against the bathtub next to Nate. 

He smells like blood. It is wafting off of him, mingling with the scents of burned clothing and flesh. He looks bad, too. Paler than he was when I first brought him in, blood around his mouth and on his chin. 

 

Reaching out a hand, he recoils from my touch, panting in fear and exhaustion. 

“Hi,” I say lamely, resting my hands in my lap. 

 

He snorts in response, muttering, “hi yourself.”

Pleasant as always, I see.

 

“What happened?” I ask, gesturing to the blood staining the toilet bowl, as well as on his clothes and face. Nate looks down at his clothes, and scrubs at his face with his sleeve while looking around the bathroom. After surveying the slight mess, he pulls himself into a more upright position against the tub.

 

“Damn pigeons,” he says, “their blood always makes me sick.”

I nod as if I understand, and am told this by people all the time.

 

Nodding in agreement, Nate pulls himself upright, and leans against the wall.

I follow, leaning against the wall as well.

We are close. I am acutely aware of his presence.

The smell of him, the gold flecks in his otherwise dark eyes, and how his fangs are receding, flat human teeth replacing them. 

 

Catching me staring, he grins, revealing two sharp fangs where a human’s blunted canines would be. A blush rises in my face, and I am surprised that I don’t burst into flames when he says, “I’m pretty filthy. You wanna help me clean up?”


	8. Chapter 8

_ I would love to see you shirtless _ , skirts through my mind, and probably blinks on my forehead in bright and obvious neon. 

 

The blush worsens when Nate shrugs out of his long sleeve, and pulls off his pants, dropping the two garments into a puddle of black fabric at his feet. 

 

Willing all the blood in my body not to rush to a certain part, I manage to squeak out, “so, where should we start?”

 

Giving me a quizzical looks, he says, “I could use a haircut. Maybe a buzzcut?” 

Running a hand through my own chin-length hair, I suggest a bit of a fix-up trim.

He nods in agreement, and watches me as I go to get a chair, some newspapers to lay out, and a pair of scissors. I scurry around my apartment, fetching the items quickly, and setting them out in the bathroom.

 

Nate settles into the chair, holding the towel I drape over his shoulders until I rubber-band the ends together. Crossing his arms over his chest, he closes his eyes while I snip away at his hair.

Commanding my hands to be steady, I finish up with his hair at just above shoulder-length.

 

Doing my best to wipe off the cut hair with the towel, I cheerfully announce, “all done!”

He stands, looking in the mirror, smiling at me behind him.

Nodding his thanks, he wets his hands in the sink and scrubs the rest of the blood off his face.

 

Looking sheepish now, he says, “I could also use a shower. And some blood.”

Oh, right. Vampire. Crap. Okay.

I nod, saying, “towels are under the sink, you can help yourself to anything in the shower, and, as for the blood, I can get you some. It may just take a little while.”

 

Nodding his thanks, Nate prepares to shower, and I leave the basement apartment to go and steal some bags of blood from the hospital where I work.


	9. Chapter 9

The clock on the dashboard of my car says that the drive only took 45 minutes, but, to me, it felt like years. Even with the AC on full blast, I had anxiety sweated through my shirt. 

Groaning, I unstick myself from the seat, and, grabbing my backpack, head into the hospital.

 

Walking through the doors, I try not to look guilty as I approach the front desk.

The nurse looks up at me, greeting me with a blinding smile, “you just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

I force myself to return a smile that is hopefully not too strained, saying, “you know it. I left some stuff down in the locker room, and came back to grab it.”

She waves me on my way, and then goes back to attacking the keyboard.

 

Going over to the elevator banks, I step inside and breathe a sigh of relief.

However, my relief is short lived as a hand, clad in black fingerless gloves, shoves the doors back open.

The hand turns out to be attached to this guy who is dressed in all black, and does not look happy to see me. Three other guys trek into the elevator after the first guy, and I try to disappear into the wall.

 

I stand as far away from the four of them as I can, white-knuckling the straps of my pack.

The men are tall, towering over me at my whopping 5’8 and actually look pretty dangerous.

I am not suspicious, I tell myself over and over. I am not about to do something highly illegal.

As the floors click off to the bottom floor, where the locker rooms and blood storage fridges are, I realize with rising panic that these guys are planning to follow me.

 

Feeling myself starting to sweat again, I get off a few floors above my stop and dash into a bathroom at the end of the hall. Closing myself into a bathroom stall, I lean against the wall and breathe.

My breathe suddenly catches in my throat as four sets of heavy footsteps stop right outside the door.

Oh geez. Oh no oh no oh no no no. 

 

Okay, Oliver. Just breathe. You got this. 

Do I really? I ask myself.

Yes! Now go!

 

Tightening my backpack straps, I hop up onto the toilet seat cover and force the small window above the toilet open. Pulling myself up, and holding onto the top of the frame, I wriggle through feet first, and disappear just as the door is kicked open.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Wedging my fingers and shoes into cracks in the bricks, I hide just out of sight as the men go through the bathroom, kicking all the stall doors open.

Oh, oh god.

Did I forget to unlock the door?

 

Counting down the stalls to mine, I almost cry with relief when the door is kicked open and slams against the wall before swinging closed again.

Not wanting to alert the scary guys to my continuing presence in the hospital, I grit my teeth and begin to work my way down the wall. 

 

By the time I get to the locker room, I am drenched in sweat, and my fingers are all red and scratched.

Shimmying my way inside, I push the window closed and make my way across the hall to the “blood room.” Sliding my keycard through the little scanner, I actually end up crossing myself when the door whooshes open without setting off the alarm.

 

Going inside and shutting the door behind me, I go from bank to bank, stuffing as much bags of blood as I can into my backpack that I had rigged into a cooler for the occasion. 

Once it is full, I go back across to the locker room and, opening my locker, find that I did actually forget something in it. 

 

Pulling out the slightly threadbare beanie, I pull it on and ride the elevator back up to the main floor.

Walking past the front desk, I gesture happily to my hat, and quickly make my get away.

 

Back in the car, the adrenaline oozes out of my body, and I slump down in the car seat.

I breathe in greats breaths of fresh air, and am just sitting back up when the scary guys walk right by my car. Slinking down in my seat, I wait until they have left the parking lot to drive away.

 

With my heart in my throat, I take the long way home, and park in the back of my building before running around and practically diving into my apartment. 


	11. Chapter 11

Leaning back against the closed door, I heave a big sigh of relief and slide down onto the floor.

Pulling off the backpack stuffed with contraband blood, I set it on the floor beside me.

Just as the pack topples over onto its side, Nate appears in the room, looking between the pack and me with feral hunger in his eyes.

 

Heaving myself up, I scuttle over to stand a safe distance away from him.

Seeming to forget that I am there, Nate crouches down by the pack, and almost tenderly unzips it.

He rummages through the blood bags, pulls one out, and rips the little spout off with his teeth.

I watch, slightly fearful, as the rest of his fangs slide out, and he drains the bag in seconds.

 

Regaining my composure, I turn to walk to the kitchen, asking over my shoulder, ¨want some pasta?¨

Not looking up at me, Nate shakes his head and tears into another baggie.

 

I make pasta in silence, letting the boiling of the water fill the quiet.

When the pasta is done, I mix in some cheese and slice up a hunk of sausage into the pan.

It smells so good, my mouth starts to water, and I realize that I can´t remember the last time I ate.

Oh, well. It happens to the best of us.

 

Then, even though Nate technically indicated that he didn't want any pasta, I spoon some into another bowl and set them down on the rickety coffee table. 

Nate comes to sit down by me, and I can't help but notice how clean he is. 

He´s borrowed an outfit of mine: blue jeans and a flannel. His hair smells like my watermelon shampoo, and curls around his ears, and he is less pale than he was a few hours before.

 

Picking up a bowl, he slurps up the pasta, and I follow, enjoying the feeling of my teeth sinking into the chunks of sausage. 

Looking down into my food, I say casually, ¨so, there were these four mean looking guys at the hospital that followed me into the elevator, and almost cornered me in the bathroom. I had to climb out a window and scale the building to get away from them.¨


	12. Chapter 12

Nate chokes on his bite of pasta. I stiffen, bracing for I don't know what.

After clearing his throat, Nate turns to me with widened eyes, asking, ¨what did the men look like, Oliver?¨

 

I describe them, and feel my heartbeat speed up as, once again, Nate pales considerably. 

Standing up, his bowl dropping to the ground and shattering, he pulls me up, too.

Looking at him quizzically, he explains frantically, ¨those guys were Slayers. Of the vampire variety. They were probably tipped off by someone and came here to kill me.¨

 

My mouth drops open, and I have to force it closed with my hand as I follow Nate around my apartment, packing important things into a couple bags.

We move quickly, and are soon in my car, speeding down the road with the backpack full of blood clutched tightly to Nate's chest.

 

Turning to me, he says, ¨oh geez, Olly. I am so sorry. Oh, what have I done?¨

White-knuckling the steering wheel, I tell him to shut up and not apologize.

¨I had wanted to get out of that apartment for a while, anyway,¨ I joke lamely. 

Then, distantly, I realize that I had forgotten my floss, and Nate had called me Olly.

Feeling my cheeks warming, I floor it out of the city.


	13. Chapter 13

Things move very quickly after our getaway, and, suddenly, it is six months later.

Nate and I have been driving around, staying in small towns until the Slayers inevitably show up, and both of us look rather dishevelled. 

Nate, bless him, has done his best to only hunt small forest animals, but sometimes a deer or two has to be drained to keep him going. When that happens, we have the local butcher cure and pack the meat, and live off of that for awhile.

 

Nate largely refuses to drink my blood, afraid that he´ll turn me, but sometimes he has to drink from me, when the locals get suspicious about the sudden drop in small wildlife. 

He is gentle then, holding me close, and stroking my back.

I do not know if I enjoy it or not, but it is not entirely unpleasant.

Afterwards, we lay together in either a crappy hotel bed, or the back of my car.

He licks the bite marks, and I run my fingers through his grown-out hair.

 

In these moments, I feel content. Even though we are being hunted, when we lay together, I forget all of that. None of it matters. I am learning to live on my own terms. On  _ our  _ terms. And, sure, Nate has terrible morning breath, and apparently I snore really loud, but we are both happy.

 

That’s strange, isn’t it? Either of us  could die at any minute, but, it’s the last thing on our minds. It’s not that we don’t care, it’s just that….it happens. 

Everybody dies eventually, even hundreds of years old vampires. 

I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, and Nate could get a stake through the heart. Granted, neither death would be peaceful and painless, but, that’s okay, too. I feel as if I can take on the world, as long as Nate is by my side.

 


	14. Chapter 14

We make it to the four month mark in the same town, with both of us holding steady jobs and living in a little cottage, when the Slayers roll into town. 

Their cars are intimidatingly large, jacked up on wheels that tower above even Nate. 

Standing behind the counter in the diner, we both pause in the middle of cleaning, and stare out the window at the cars. There are only two cars, which doesn’t make it any less scary, but, it may be easier to escape without being cornered instantly.

 

Suddenly, Nate drops down behind the counter, and pulls me down beside him.

I shriek as I go, but am silenced when he clamps a hand over my mouth.

He is shaking, his hand salty with sweat against my lips. We sit there, and he takes his hand away, sitting back on his heels, eyes narrowing into slits as the rest of his fangs slide out.

 

“They’re here,” he says.

I nod silently, and allow myself to be pulled through the kitchen and out the back door of the diner.

We make a mad dash to the car, running in a half-crouch.

Nate slides into the driver’s seat, and I get in beside him. He peels out of the parking lot with my door still open, and I pull it shut, feeling the slamming of metal against metal throughout my body.

 

My breath comes fast, as does Nate’s, and the car is filled with panicked breathing. Looking behind us, I see the two Slayer cars coming up on us, and shrink down in my seat.

I feel sick. Nate is turning green, and sinks a fang into his bottom lip, drawing blood. 

 

With the sun going down behind us, we keep driving.

Just keep driving. Don’t stop. Can’t stop.

Not gonna die like this. 

Please, god. I don’t want to die like this. 

I don’t want to be gunned down by scary men with biceps the size of my leg.

It’s too soon. I haven’t had enough time with Nate.

_ I haven’t lived enough!  _


	15. Chapter 15

Picking up on my increasingly erratic breathing, Nate reaches over and grabs my hand. He gives my sweaty palm three quick squeezes, silently saying that he loves me. My heart flutters against my ribs, trying to escape.

Turning to face me, he grins. I smile back, and we gaze into each other’s eyes.

 

That nice little tender moment is ended when the car crashes into a telephone pole.

My chest collides with the dashboard, and, as my ribs bend almost to the breaking point, I realize just how important seatbelts really are.

Groaning, I slump back in my seat, looking over at Nate, who seems to have fared no better than I did. His forehead is bleeding, and a bruise is already blossoming where the steering wheel almost decapitated him. 

 

He groans, staring out the cracked windshield at the hood of the car that is wrapped around the pole.

“Sorry about your car,” he mumbles, getting out of the wreck and pulling me with him.

We stand by the smoking car, hands clasped tightly in each other’s.

It is silent for only a few seconds before the two big cars come into view. 

As they come speeding towards us, REM’s It’s The End of The World pops into my head.

_ So not helping right now. _

 

Nate tightens his grip on my hands and pulls me into a run. 

With my lungs burning, I distantly realize that we’ve forgotten our bags in the wrecked car.


	16. Chapter 16

The Slayer’s are right behind us, and just when I think that we’re going to be run over, the two big cars come to a screeching halt.

My footsteps falter, but Nate steadies me and runs faster.

Doors slam behind us, and we’re almost to the woods on the side of the road.

 

So close. Just a few more feet. Almost there. Please god, let us make it.

 

Suddenly, there is a sharp and burning pain in my stomach. It’s not my ribs. It’s my whole torso.

Looking down, I almost puke at what appears to be a grappling hook sticking out of my body.

My throat spasms then, but, instead of vomit, all that comes out is blood.

Choking, I stumble, hand slipping out of Nate’s.

 

Just as he turns to me, I am jerked backwards by the chain attached to the hook.

I fall to my knees on the ground. Spluttering and coughing, my blood turns the dirt red.

Growling, Nate grabs the chain and pulls it back, yanking it out of the Slayer’s grip.

 

Kneeling beside me, he gently lowers me to the ground.

When the Slayers are practically right on top of us, Nate springs off the ground and onto the closest man. His throat is quickly ripped out, and Nate moves onto the three remaining.

 

From my vantage point on the ground, I can only see their shoes. Three pairs of heavy boots, and Nate’s ratty sneakers.

They scuffle back and forth, and, just as the night begins to recede, a sudden silence falls.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Nate squeezes Oliver's hand three times, it means 'I. Love. You.' The hand squeeze is something my mother taught me when I was a child, and one of the very few good memories I have of my childhood with her.

With tunneling vision, I try to smile through blood covered lips up at Nate.

He drops to the ground beside me, cradling my face in his hands.

“Oliver….oh god, Olly. I’m so sorry.”

In response, I raise a trembling, blood covered hand and rest it on his cheek.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “I can turn you. I can keep you safe. Please just  _ stay _ .”

 

Coughing out blood, I put my remaining strength into my words, saying, “no.  _ You come with me _ .”

Laying down beside me on the ground, he takes my hand in his, squeezes it three times.

“I will,” he murmurs.


	18. Chapter 18

We lay like that. In the dirt, staring up at the sky as the sun rises in all its glory.

When the light hits us, Nate’s skin and clothes start to smoke.

He doesn’t make a sound, just holds my hand tighter.

 

Finally, when day has broken and the sun is high in the sky, Nate is nothing but a pile of ash next to me.

The tears come then, as well as more blood.

I lay there, vision going black, hand fisted in the ash.

 

Breathing out one last gurgling breath, I close my eyes, and just….let go. 

 


End file.
